We weren’t there by choice. Naively, I thought no one was. That everyone was forced to be there. I mean, why would anyone choose to spend their time listening to a bunch of strangers pour out their sad lil’ hearts? In the musty basement of a church, no less. No, they had to be like us, ordered by the court.

A cop pulled us over in Newport Beach. We were 19 years old, on spring break, cruising the strip. Jeff and Neil were visiting from Pennsylvania; I was a sophomore at UC Riverside. I forgot exactly why we were stopped, but empty beer cans littered the floor of the rental car. Thankfully Jeff, our driver, wasn’t drunk. He was cited, though, for open container. His punishment was to attend four AA meetings, a fair penalty I must admit. After all, we were poor college students who would be hard pressed to cough up a fine, no matter how nominal.

Three months later, Jeff had still not gone to any meetings. He had one week left or face possible jail time. Jeff was always a shy kid, a passive sort. I knew it was up to me to take action. I was home for the summer, toiling as a laborer in a cement plant to pay for school. I called around for local meetings- this was the early 90’s, before the internet- and, much to my surprise, found plenty to choose from. Neil and I would accompany Jeff to all four gatherings, knowing damn well he wouldn’t go alone. Of course, we made sure we were good and drunk before we went.

The meeting was held at a church in downtown Allentown. I don’t remember what kind- the denomination, that is- but I suppose, much like the reason the cop pulled us over in the first place, it doesn’t really matter. Neil threatened to speak, make up some insane story of how he became an alcoholic. That would be something Neil would do. He was a crazy bastard and I loved him for it. Jeff pleaded with him to stay quiet. He had to get a form signed to show that he actually attended- and didn’t want to risk it. We plopped down in the middle row, in cheap fold-up chairs, trying our best to blend in with the older sad sacks around us. The first thing I noticed was three cute girls seated in the back. They were around our age and the attraction seemed to be mutual.

As people swapped their tales of woe, we engaged in schoolboy antics with the girls, tossing balled-up pieces of paper back and forth. I couldn’t wait till the stupid thing was over, so we could actually talk to them. Halfway through the meeting, though, the alcohol began to take hold. I started to doze off, head bobbing up and down, as a frail black man in his sixties told his story. He had a deep, throaty voice, like that of an emphysema patient. Somewhere during his speech, ten minutes or so in, I stirred awake. For a few frightening seconds, I didn’t know where I was. All I heard was the speaker recanting his journey into the abyss: “… Then I woke up. Looked down. And there was a knife in my throat.”

Christ! I never laughed so hard in my life. Everyone gawked at me. I couldn’t stop cackling. I mean, seriously, he didn’t notice a knife gouged in his throat? He had to look? Neil punched me in the knee, a pained expression on his face, his beady eyes begging me to stop. I had to get the hell out of there… I sprang to my feet and scuttled down the row, past the knees of horrified drunkards, and out the door. I waited outside the church for 20 minutes until the meeting ended. Neil strode outside, shaking his head, secretly delighted by my faux pas. If there was one person in the world who could appreciate humor in any situation, it was Neil.

A minute later, the girls stepped outside. I approached them, oblivious to the fact I had just made a complete ass of myself. Excitedly, I told them about an older friend of mine who lived down the street. “He’s got a full bar, anything you want.” All three girls glared at me, incredulous. One of them snapped, “we don’t drink.” They stomped away. I watched them, startled, thinking that, shit, maybe going to these things actually is a choice. Neil, Jeff, and I went to my buddy’s house and drank all night. We still had three more meetings to go.